Kisses From Minako
by teceraca
Summary: A collection of imaginings with Minako showing affection to those closest to her. Scenes do not necessarily exist in the same story/playthrough.
1. Theodore

I & II

One and two are a greeting to a handsome face. Theodore is his name, and he will be assisting her on her journey. He's sweet; too sweet. Minako samples from each cheek. _Hello_ and _nice to meet you._

III

Three is for the cards he fuses. She sits next to him (on his lap is too distracting, he says), watching the spread and the _power_ that runs between them.

IV

They spin. They float. They combine; just like Igor said, and a new persona emerges from the sea of her soul! Eyes full of wonder turn to the man, "You did it!" she giggles. She pulls his head to her and buries her face in silver hair. "Mwwwaah! You're wonderful!"

Four happens without thinking. She hurts. She can't admit it; still holds out. He _knows_. He hugs her. She fights; still keeps fighting. She absorbs some of his steady strength. She clenches suit fabric where her hands are, and pinches the stripes on his shoulder within a pursed mouth.

V

Five is her favorite - friendly and fun. He wants to understand the appeal of the fountain at the mall, so she takes him. After marveling and musing in his childish ways, he simply sits on the ledge to watch the water flow. She tells him it's even more fun to see it upside down. She flops herself over his legs to show him how. He can't do the same, now needing to remain between her and the harsh concrete! Tilting back a bit, though, he can see the same sight. His hands find holds atop her waist and under her hair, the pair resting and watching together for a good while. The white noise drowns out the crowd, and his calming presence makes her sleepy. Her head turns to the side in his palm, and lightly brushes lips against fingers before she settles. She feels _safe_.

Any kisses after that feel more than friendly…


	2. Shinjiro

I & II

The first two form a pair of twins. Akihiko storms across the lobby, fists still clenched, clearly seeing nothing but red and the solace of his room. All she catches from his mutterings before the pounding of stairs are _Shinji, asshole_ and _**drugs**_. She dismisses it with a roll of her eyes as nothing but one of his childish fits. That is, until Shinjiro enters next, and he sports an extra-dejected hunch and a nice pink swell beginning to form on his cheek. Suspicions raise further when he sees her there and then breaks eye contact, refusing to form it again. She confronts him the usual way - a coat cuff in each hand and a solid stare up into his face. She's a bit short, and he's rather tall; it makes trying to face down and away from her impossible. "… Is it true?" Innocence had been stolen from them in different ways, but right now it's back, and packaged up in cellophane that's colored crimson. She'd accepted he had secrets, but always thought they were ghosts that lived in the past; nothing so **dark** and carried into the _present_. He can't lie to a look like that. "Tch!" and a _pulling_ away confirm it. He doesn't bother to conceal the rattle in his pocket anymore as he yanks free.

She _pushes_ him into the couch, and she climbs on top in suit, spurred on by emotions that she, _of all people_ , **doesn't** understand. She just _needs;_ she needs him here; needs him whole. Maybe it's because she knows how impossible it is that she begins to offer pieces of _herself_ to stuff in the fissures. Lips capture the side of his throat, and it's several moments before they let go. She's still clasping his lapels when her forehead presses to his. His hands find her waist. She looks into his eyes, but can't find much more than shock, and perhaps a glimpse of her own embers coupling into a forge with his steel (a space to _create_ something new). Her attentions move to the opposite side of previous mark, as if the motions turn an invisible crank for tightening of the esophagus and would make him more cautious of what he swallows.

III

The third is in a world of its own. People never stay very late at the shrine, so their bench doesn't look much different at midnight under an emerald sky. For two who consider themselves dark as well, it honestly creates a nice temporary home. They force a safe haven _between_ the clutter. They make time by cashing in minutes that _shouldn't exist_. Minako eats people up to fill her emptiness, and regurgitates the stories as if Shinjiro can use them to rewrite his own. After so many nights, she finally runs silent. Like the _moon_ , he reflects what light he can from her, and it now shows in his eyes and that elusive _smile_. He affects an "Encore!" for more words to fill the air between them, but instead she pounces over it. She uses the dried-up pages of his teeth to draw picture books with her tongue. It's okay, for once, they tell themselves; it's an hour that, to any clock, _never happened_.

IV

Four is a command. She doesn't like being bossy, really she doesn't, but he's so stubborn she has to be to _get through_. Yet again, he looks towards a door while she's in a tizzy, but this time it's because she's trying to _push_ him beyond it. "I can't let you in my room. You shouldn't be here. I'm not a good guy," he says as if she doesn't already know him; as if she hadn't weighed what she sees and what she wants before confessing _how she feels_. She reaches for the knob herself and continues to lean her full weight against both boy and blockade. She growls before communicating her resolve from mouth to mouth, " _and I'm not a princess._ "

V

The fifth follows shortly after. Apparently, his idea of surrender is _pulling_ her onto his lap and _ravishing_ her with every filthy thought he's ever had. She brings the hand that isn't otherwise _occupied_ to her face. What fun would it be for her turn to last forever? A gentle caress that she strokes down her cheek soon turns to two fingers on the inside of it. The sensations she enacts on them - a _promise_ of more to come.


	3. Akihiko

re:guest review - I'm sorry you feel that way. I also believe there is much more to FemC than that, but other sides will be in other stories. This one IS marked as romance genre, so yes that is where many of the scenes are headed. I do admit my drabble style of writing does not always leave much room for much build up or development, so maybe it just doesn't have the depth to match your interests. In any case, I at least revised the summary to be a little more clear that the chapters aren't really meant to happening all at once, or even as part of the same story.

* * *

*:･ﾟ✧

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It's the first time the nightmare returns since the twelfth shadow. Reprieve had been sweet, but Minako had been naive to think the little boy had been friend enough to make it disappear entirely when he had. It's _different_ now, though. She wakes not with sobs or screams, but hot, silent streams down her cheeks. It matches the blood she still sees seeping from mangled bodies, and only begins to run in faster waves as she sits up. With soaked knees and bangs squeezed tight in her hands, she realizes what a fool she is to have believed that accepting her own mortality would change anything about lives **already lost**.

She picks up her phone from the night stand and fondles it between thumbs. Procedural memory flips it open and clicks through a menu and a list. When the watery blur across her sight clears, she can finally see the cursor hovering over Aki's entry. _I can share my burden with you_ , he'd said. _So if you need me, I'll be there for you too_ , he'd offered.

She'd prided herself on her ability to defer her own needs; her ability to _fight_ what rotted her. _It's different now, though._ Whatever it was that had left, it did take something with it - the storm that swirled everything up for her, good **and** bad. No longer do her emotions spin out of control; no longer do they wish to act out or to eat up. Her very own, pure **sadness** sits so still and heavy in her chest. She doesn't feel _strong_ enough to hold it on her own. Suddenly her boyfriend's compulsions make a little more sense.

But she also finds the will to _be weak._ She hits the call button and hopes sound and a flashing LED will be enough to wake him. He answers a bit bleary, but the uncharacteristic **flatness** in her plea to _please come up_ has him in pajama pants and opening her door in barely over a minute. The still-open screen casts enough luminescence for him to make out her loosely huddled form and gently approach. He claims next to no skill at knowing what to do at a time like this, but she usually finds ways to lead him.

For now, he switches on the dim table lamp before taking the device from her and setting it back in its place. She's just short of eerily still as she watches him move. Pitiful eyes of a pretty face draw him closer, and when he sits against the headboard beside her, she crawls over his lap and wraps herself about him _tight_. His brows furrow, and his arms take places that have become natural around her form, hoping it can ease whatever causes her, and him in turn, to _worry._ She presses her face to his chest, and after a few heavy breaths filled with the light scent of sweaty cotton that never seems to leave his skin, she forms a thought she's never given herself the _freedom_ to have before. The tears have gone, but her words drip out with the same pathos.

" _I miss them_ ," she squeaks.

If Akikiho Sanada fully understands any emotion at all - it is _that,_ yet still he remains silent. _Sympathy_ he conveys only through the deep gulp against her eyelids that pulls his whole expression down with it, and the fierce gripping of hair and camisole satin between respective sets of fingers. If ever a phrase existed to erase such a pain, if ever he **knew** it to offer now, he would've said it to himself ages ago.

This she knows, but he's _holding_ her, and it helps. He cannot fight it away with his fists, nor she cut through it with her blade. _Together,_ though, maybe they can at least **bear** it. She relaxes finally, and lays her head to the side on his shoulder. He loosens with her, though not consciously. He's caught in a shallow spiral of his own now, but that's fine by her. She takes the time to study his lower facial features through truncated vision as his gaze remains forward.

A _regal_ chin, she thinks. A solid jawline, though close inspection shows so many nicks and scars riddled along it from sharp hits and lesions. At the end of it, she can see skin bouncing cyclic from carotid pulse. Shine returns to her eyes as she counts and tries to match her breathing with the _steadiness_. Fingertips curl in and out against the smoother skin of his back, which begins to draw him again towards reality. His hands shift softly to areas of _comfort_ rather than prime joints in need of _support_.

When watching wears out, and steady becomes stale, she lurches forward to begin the first of many expressions of _passion_ this meeting. She claims the spot of interest, where ear, jaw and neck meet, with force and form like she means to leave a hickey, but no suction means no bruise. She simply revels in the increased _jump_ of the vessel beneath her tongue. She'd never quite imagined that a schoolgirl crush and teenage hormones would turn into _this._

"… _and I love you_ ," she whispers.

He pulls air in as if to respond, but before he can she's making him _taste_ the phrase too. He'll gladly let actions do the talking, then. He switches the way they entangle. She uses both hands to keep pulling his head against hers, and he pushes forward until she's on her back atop pink covers.

The time that follows can be tracked in hours and minutes ( **slow** purpose bends it to their will; seconds become obsolete), but the kisses shared are indefinite _._ Each one sets spark to flame and the pyrotechnics dazzle across her vision even with closed eyes. Countless guiding lights begin to _fill_ an elsewise **empty** night, and Minako finally realizes why an Emperor yet acts as _her Star_.


	4. Elizabeth

The first is the cutest thing she's ever seen. "A date!" Cold lips had squealed warm thoughts with every ounce of excitment from the last five seconds. She requests a _real_ date. "They are meant to be spent with someone special you wish to know better, yes? Oh, we simply _must_!" Minako never could say no to that kind of energy. She takes her to dinner; takes her for ice cream. Elizabeth's exuberance builds with each moment that seems to go according to her plan, even if not her understanding. It's when Minako prepares to say goodnight that she catches the attendant off-guard, "There's one more thing if you want it to be a ~real~ date, Liz," she giggles, "If you had a good time, that is."

Of course she did, she says. So the fool takes cheeks in hand and kisses her Lizzie sweetly on the lips (and Minako's must feel chilly too from the dessert). The lady does not have the proper workings to blush pink, but she's pretty sure a bit of white vapor starts leaking from her nose.

The last is one of the saddest things she's ever done. She feels weak, nearly broken. The world is almost fallen; her journey almost failed. Igor assures her that all is not lost. He marvels at the power of the Universe, and explains what might be done. He tells her to listen. As the past year flashes before her eyes, the sight of all her friends brings strength to her heart as well as tears to her face. "But someone's missing," she says, and looks to the silent standing Elizabeth, "You," she takes a velvet glove in hand and kisses the top like paying a respect to monarchy, "Thank you for being my guide, Liz."

This one's not goodnight, but _goodbye_.


End file.
